


how often i fell in love with delusions again

by ever_neutral



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_neutral/pseuds/ever_neutral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted to fix her because he couldn't fix himself. That isn't just something she can forgive.</p><p>[Dark AU mishmash of <i>The God Complex</i> and <i>Amy’s Choice</i>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	how often i fell in love with delusions again

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for dark themes and some dubious consent.

 

 

 

 

When the psychic pollen gets them again --

Well.

It _really_ gets her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _I choose my friends with great care_ , he'd said.

The Doctor says a lot of things. And he'd never been careful with her. (Except, of course, in that one regard.)

(But not that careful -- he probably thought she _didn't know_.)

Amy is awoken. (Amy is dreaming.)

Amy finally sees reality as it is. (That's the irony, get it?)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She -- the other _she_ \-- is easily exposed of. _Disposable as ever, aren't you just_ , Amy has the clarity to think, and the lack of inhibitions to say.

 _Why are you doing this to me!_ the other girl cries, bangs uselessly against the locked door. Wails some nonsense words like _they'll find me_ , like _they always do_. It's as though she never learns.

 _No one is going to come for you_ : old words, old friends, chanted over years and years (and years) on the loneliest planet in the galaxy. ~~But that never happened.~~

~~(This Amy remembers everything.)~~

She leaves the other one ( _alone in the dark_ ) where she belongs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rory looks at her without recognition. That seems fitting.

(She sees _everything_ , now.)

"This isn’t you.” A furrowed brow. “You’re not --" _Her_. " -- yourself.” They look the same, you see.

It didn't take him long. She's almost impressed. Thinks she should reward him for his predictable, storybook devotion. "Oh, it's absolutely me," one hand already at his fly, nails pressing in.

He practically _yelps_ , his hardness giving him away.

She fucks him on the Doctor's precious console (the other Amy _would never --_ ), his arms flailing, grabbing at random buttons and levers. The whole panel will reek of him, of them, of them together. _He'll just love that_ , she thinks, and grins. Moans, "Oh, Doctor," for good measure, for the hell of it.

A beat and a half, and Rory's eyes snap open, furious and betrayed.

"Whoops," she pants, theatricality. "Guess the cat's out of the bag."

(She locks him in the same place with the other one. They belong together, after all, while she belongs --)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He senses the wrongness as soon as she walks in. He is, of course, the man who knew everything.

"Amy," his green eyes, sharp in the gloom, flitting around the '80s hotel room. "Why are we here again? Something's not right."

She pushes him down on the blood-red satin. Stands over him. Looks down on him (he looks up at her): "Your faith in me," the words a perfect memory. "That's what brought us here." Watches the dawning come, watches those lovely eyes widen in recognition and horror. (A nightmarish growl from outside the door.)

"No." He tries to scramble away; but she is too strong (for once, for him), straddles his prone body with ease. "No. Amy. I know what's happening to you. I can help you!" he's babbling, hands struggling uselessly against her iron grip. "I can fix it. Just let me!"

"Please," her voice as cold as the manacles that appear in a blink. "You can barely fix your bow tie."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(In those last moments:

There is hoarse yelling, clanging of metal. _You can't do this to me, you can't. You can't leave me!_

Her hand on the door handle. "Don't make me make that a noose.")

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the real version:

She had been unlike herself. (The grand, sweeping irony of _everything_.)

She had gone quietly.

He had simply flown away, the mad man in his box. She watched it go and everything, watched the blue fade into the clear, cloudless sky. And then she had gone inside, inside her doll's house as he'd instructed -- Peter Pan playing at well-meaning patriarch because all fairytales have a punchline, they just don't tell you so in school.

"He gone?" Rory had asked, trying not to sound thankful.

She had merely nodded. (She didn't have a voice anymore, you see.)

~~(He had taken that from her too.)~~

Only then did Rory understand, sadness in his eyes. Sadness for the sad girl left behind again, alone again: it's such a repetitive story. "He's not coming back, is he."

 _Of course he is!_ she had wanted to scream, would have done if she still had a voice.

Instead she went to fetch the laundry.

Rory had just smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Amy. Amy. Please don't leave. Please don't leave me._

The Doctor thought he knew darkness. He knew nothing. She can _see_ him now: a god in ruins, in pieces; on his knees. People are useless, Amy knows this better than most -- people are as good as the holes they leave behind; and still they'll never have him.

He wanted her to see him as he is. She does. (She sees him on his knees ~~~~_for her_ for an ideal out of reach --). Turns away. She doesn't want his broken pieces.

(He wanted to fix her because he couldn't fix himself. That isn't just something she can forgive.)

But the monster does. Paws hungrily at the door.

"Amy. _Amelia_." The old name is sentimental and irrelevant because this fairytale is a horror story now. "I'm begging you. _Please_."

She sees him as he is, for the first time, for the last time.

"Goodbye, Doctor."

Turns the handle and lets the beast in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, in the real world, he saves them after all.

"Nobody fear, I've got them." Displays, almost proudly, the shimmering flecks of powder in his hand.

Rory is calmly shaking his head. "That was even weirder than the last time."

Amy meets the Doctor's eyes from across the console and, once again, says nothing.

 

 

*


End file.
